


Overworked

by RoseGoldDragon



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't read if you don't like old men getting blowjobs ok, F/M, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, just a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseGoldDragon/pseuds/RoseGoldDragon
Summary: You've always said poor Torvald overworks himself. One night, you catch him trying to relieve some stress.You offer to help him out.
Relationships: Reader/Torvald
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Overworked

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this for anybody that wants to fuck Torv other than me.
> 
> Enjoy :)

You grin widely at the next book you grabbed from the large stack sitting on the table you're seated at.

“A Lover's Passion”

Oh, Gods. What is this? You hesitantly open to the first page, greeted with a wall of text, just alike the other books you and your boss have gone through tonight. You skim over the words, something about a young woman, she's lonely, jobless, so on and so on. You skip a few more pages ahead, and it's the poor girls first day on the job, and she's about to meet her boss. Who's apparently quite attractive. 

Ah. Of course it's one of these books. Should've known by the title.

Out of sheer curiosity, you flip to just about directly the middle of the book, and- Oh!

Well. You certainly weren't expecting... lewd illustrations.

“What's wrong dear?” You must have made a noise of surprise, as your own boss, Torvald, is looking at you from across the table, perplexed.

“Uh...” You feel yourself flush, but also can't help the cheeky grin from earlier returning, as you slide the open book over to him, “That's, uh, really something, isn't it?”

It's then Torvald's turn to blush, though a little huff of laughter escapes him, “Goodness, that one certainly doesn't belong in this section.” He closes the book and sets it to the side, “Though I will say the artistry is rather nice. Reminds me of some tomes that date back to The First Scourge. The Stagalla were a surprisingly creative race. I suppose they needed some form of... entertainment in between all that goblin slaying.”

Was he implying that there was... Stagalla porn somewhere in this library? They were stone people weren't they? How would that work?

You decide not to ask, and simply return to your work.

You and he sort through a few more books, before you hear the clock chime, signaling eleven o'clock. “Eleven already, huh?” you stretch and yawn, “Guess we'll finish this tomorrow.”

“You go ahead, I'd like to do a bit more here.” Torvald says, remaining seated as you stand. 

“Are you sure?” There's still quite a lot of books to look through, there's no way he'd be able to do the rest tonight. 

“Of course, go and rest.”

You then cross your arms, he does this all the time, you wonder if he ever gets any sleep. “Y'know, you need rest too.” You look at him a bit indignantly, “Someday you're going to work yourself to death.”

He looks up at you above his glasses, and smiles warmly, “I appreciate the concern, dear. But I'm just fine. Don't you worry yourself about me.” His eyes flick back to the open book in front of him, unbothered by the threat of sleep deprivation. You roll your eyes and sigh, “Fine, just don't stay too long, okay?”  
You turn and walk away, a dismissive “Mhm.” following you out of the room. Unbelievable. He's such a damn workaholic. Or... just very passionate about his work. You smile slightly to yourself. That is, at least, something you respect very much.

~

The walk home was thankfully uneventful, as most people had already gone to bed. You saw that Sentinel, Vivian, patrolling the halls as she always did. She simply sneered at you as you passed her by, and you both went on your ways. 

You live about ten minutes away from Deepwerks, and while the walk isn't that long, you're frustrated when you reach your door, then for your bag, only to realize you left it in the library. Your keys were in that bag.

“Fuck.” No matter how much you just want to lay down and sleep, you're left with no choice but to turn around and walk all the way back. At least the library wouldn't be locked up yet, and just this once, you're thankful for Torvald's endless desire to work himself to death. 

In another ten minutes, you're back at Deepwerks, stalking through the halls as quietly as you can, hoping that damn bitch of a guard won't catch you sneaking around far after dark. 

It takes but another minute to reach the grand doors of the massive library, and you push them open, cursing the small creak that emits from the old hinges. You slip in, grateful to see that that lamps, both crystal powered and fire lit, haven't been put out yet. Your footsteps are light, and you peek around corners of massive bookcases, hoping to avoid scaring the elf still present. 

“Torvald?” You whisper softly, retracing your footsteps to the room you both were in twenty minutes prior. As you approach, however, a sound you never thought you'd hear startles you out of another whisper of his name.

Was that... was that a moan? No way.

The door is only half closed, and you press forward, poking your head through.

Oh my Gods. 

It takes but a second to realize what's happening, and when you do, your jaw drops.

Torvald is still seated at the table, but he's now hunched over, his expression could be mistaken for one of pain, if not for the deep flush covering it, the panting, the way his arm is moving... and the moans. The moans.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel your own face heat up, hell, your whole body lights up with the heat of embarrassment. You just walked in on your boss jerking off.

You really need to leave, leave you're not some kind of voyeur, but the shock cements you in place. Just long enough for him to apparently sense your presence, his head snaps up, and immediately ceases his movement. 

“Y/N!” Torvald yelps, voice cracking, limbs now moving in a flurry in an attempt to cover himself, though you can't really see anything. The table is blocking your view. Did you want to be able to see? You lick your lips nervously.

“I-I'm so sorry sir,” you stutter weakly, “I just came back for my bag, I uh, left it here.”

He stares at you blankly for a moment, like he's delirious, of course he is, he was just fucking masturbating, and trying to process what's going on. “Your bag. O-of course, your bag.” He clears his throat, goes to stand up, doesn't quite get there and plops back down in his chair, looking at you a bit fearfully, before tilting his head toward another chair adjacent to the table, “There it is, you left it there.”

“Right.” You swallow the lump in your throat, and move shakily, carefully toward your bag. You can't help but glance over to him, and notice the open book in front of him. It's the book from earlier, the same lewd imagery you had a chuckle over, now used for poor old Torvald to jerk it to.

You look at him next, and he's making a profound effort not even glance in your general direction, keeping his eyes trained to the floor next to him. You didn't think it was possible for his face to get any redder than it was when you first walked in, but somehow it has. From this angle, nearly directly to his left, you can see just a sliver of his lap. It appears he wasn't entirely successful in covering himself. You can even see a gleaming, sticky substance on his balled up fist, held firmly against his leg. Poor thing. Left all unsatisfied.

You lick your lips again, feeling the flush of heat run through you once more, but not of embarrassment this time. And if you don't feel like a fucking pervert for it. Sure, walking in on him was a complete accident, but standing here now, for longer than you should, trying to see more than you should, when your hand is on your bag and what you should be doing is running away? Well. Quite inappropriate.

But, he was masturbating in the library of all places, he surely could've just taken the book back to his room and went to town, right? Seems like you're not the only one out of line. 

You chew your lip absentmindedly. If you were honest with yourself, this really wasn't the first time you've had... less than appropriate thoughts about the man. You felt guilty about it, he was so much older than you, but here, now, in the current circumstance? You couldn't deny how you felt. He's just so fucking cute. He's tall, his hands are huge, and yet he's so gentle with his touch. His voice, his passion for his work, the way he gets so excited about it. His ears. Oh my Gods his ears. They're expressive, and move according to his emotions. Right now, they're pointed more downwards than usual. Kind of like how a cat's ears lay down when displeased. So cute. And his age? Well, you supposed him being a few decades older than you really didn't matter. Or maybe you even liked it. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.

You had spaced out thinking about him, his age, his fucking ears, which was now prompting him to finally look up at you shyly. “Y/N?” His voice is wavery, a half whisper, like he's scared you'll reprimand him, call him a pervert, a dirty old man for jacking it in the library to an old, historical porn tome. Perhaps you will, if that's what he likes.

“Torvald...” You counter with his own name, “Have you been stressed lately?”

He blinks up at you, processing your question, “Yes,” He says, surely more breathlessly than intended, “Yes I have.”

“You're overworked.” You don't ask, but state, an obvious fact, “I keep telling you, you work too damn much.” You don't miss the edge in your voice and it seems neither does he, a mix of emotions crossing his features. Confusion, anxiety, desire, lust. A bit of thinly veiled frustration at being denied release.

“Y/N?” He asks your name again, though there's a warning in his voice, like he can suddenly read your mind and see all the filth running through it. 

“Torvald.” You say firmly, “You need to relax. I can help you.” You and he are both surprised by your sudden boldness, how you dare to take a step towards him, and his eyes widen and pupils dilate, staring up at you with a look that can only be described as desperate. 

“T-This...” He swallows thickly, “We can't do this. I'm your superior, you're so young, you-” 

“Spare me the moral dilemma speech Torv,” You cut him off, “I'm old enough to fuck.” You hear his breath hitch, “I'm old enough for you.” He's now fully turned towards you in his chair, exposing himself to you, his cock is still hard, and flushed, and fucking thick and long, and you stare, already salivating.

It's his turn to shock you with boldness, however, when a large hand lifts to grab your face, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you toward him. He presses a firm kiss to your lips, and you shiver in delight, bringing your hands to his face to run through his beard. He pulls away just barely, “Are you sure?” He mumbles against your lips. Your response is to kiss him back even harder, to lay your tongue against his, to sit on his lap and grind your ass on his cock. 

His hips jump upwards involuntarily, and he moans deeply into your mouth. You break the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you momentarily. “Want me to suck you off?” You purr, and you can feel his cock jump underneath you. He can only whimper out a pathetic, “Yes please.” before you're on your knees, telling him to lift his hips so you can pull his pants down, so you can lay wet, open mouthed kisses on the insides of his thighs, sucking marks into them, teasing him to the point he cries out a desperate “Please!” and grabs your hair, pulling you to lave your tongue across the thick vein on the underside of his dick.

You quickly get to work, popping his head into your mouth and sucking hard, rewarding you with a spurt of precum coating your tongue and throat, that and your saliva makes slowly sliding his cock in slippery smooth, though he's big enough that fitting all of him in is proving to be a challenge. You begin to bob your head, determined to take more and more of him, until he's entirely stuffed down your throat. 

“Sweetheart,” He manages to choke out between pants and moans, “You don't have to- d-don't make yourself-” He's cut off by your hand gently massaging his balls, and his grip on your hair tightens as you push yourself farther down on his cock. 

You look up as far as you can, to see his head thrown back, incoherent moans leaving his trembling lips, his hips rocking into your hot, tight mouth. Your nose finally meets the base of him, white pubic curls brushing softly against your face. Then, you suck hard, and swallow, tightening your throat around him as much as you can. 

“F-fuck!” He curses loudly. You'd never heard him say fuck before, and it's enough to make you shove your other hand down your pants, rubbing fervently at your clit, Gods, you're fucking soaked. 

You bob your head harder, faster, feeling his cock throb hard in your mouth, just as your wet cunt is, and you know you're both going to cum soon.

“Almost...” Torvald half moans, half growls, “Such a good girl, good little girl...” He chants, alternating between 'good girl' and your name. On one very harsh suck and deep bob of your head, his hips thrust into you, a loud “Oh!” bursting out of him, “Y/N, I-I'm gonna-” another groan is ripped from his broad chest, “Gonna cum!” 

Instead of pulling off of his cock like he expects, you continue your incessant assault on his dick and balls, pushing him straight over the edge and milking him fucking dry. He practically shouts as he throbs and spills his hot, sticky, thick seed down your throat. What pushes you over the edge is the overwhelming amount of cum, so much you can't swallow it all at once and as you pull off of him, some spills out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, your shirt and onto the floor beneath you. You moan loud, pussy throbbing harshly as you thoroughly soak your panties, leaving you coated in both of your releases.

You both pant feverishly, trying to catch your breaths. It's but a moment before pulls you up, back into his lap, petting your hair affectionately, “That...” he takes a deep breath and sighs happily, “was lovely. You were wonderful my dear. Absolutely wonderful.” You giggle, and crane your head to kiss him deeply.

“Happy to help.” You smile. 

You both sit there for a while, not wanting to move, but knowing you'll have to. “Ugh,” You groan, “gonna have to walk home.” He holds you even tighter to him, “Stay with me,” He says, “I'll take you to my room.” You look up at him, “Really? Are you sure?” You weren't certain if this was a one off or what. To be honest, you hoped not. And you really wanted to spend the rest of the night with him.

“Of course dearest,” He cups your face with a large hand, running his thumb along your cheek, “Stay with me.” He repeats softly. 

You grin wildly, hopping up so he can pull his pants back up. You look down at your ruined shirt, and he blushes, “Sorry about that.” 

“No problem.” You chuckle, and then he's picking you up, holding you in his arms to carry you bridal style.

“Woah!” You cling to him, not having expected this. 

“What?” Torvald says, flashing a cheeky smile at you, “Didn't think old Torv could carry his princess around?” 

You laugh as he carries you off to his room.


End file.
